Take a Deep Breath

Oh the gift of this day. The gift of my comfortable home (and bed). The gift of my loving husband. The gift of my two loyal dogs.The gift of my bathtub and scalding hot water.The gift of time and silence and clearing my head.My last entry spoke of the chaos and the demands of the days ahead. A former student responded to that entry and gave me assurance that the blessings of home would be waiting for me . Her words gave me such comfort . I know this to be true . I have on so many occasions felt the wonder of arriving home after busy and chaotic days away so it should not surprise me. Today I take a deep breath, I process all that has been and all the blessings the last few days afforded me. My daughter and granddaughter were among the best of those blessings. Our time seemed rushed, brief and sporadic but so meaningful. Emma's smile as she walked through the airport gate with such joy in surprising her Monkey will hold a special place in my memories of these days. My beautiful daughter's quiet presence interspersed with wit and wisdom while she worked through her physical pain to be a part of my celebration was so appreciated. They were blessed with safe travel back home to their life and the challenges they face in the next few weeks.Years ago when Caleb was just a little boy I attended a Maritime Writer's Workshop. They were held at UNB and I was lucky enough to attend two of them. Thinking back it was Burton who made that first one happen for me. He heard about it on CBC and pushed me to register. At the time the $300 plus entry fee seemed extravagant and impossible but he made it happen . Leaving four kids seemed impossible too but we worked it out. I remember writing five year old Caleb a letter that week explaining to him where I was , why I was away and that I was a writer and being a writer would take me away, sometimes for a few minutes , a few hours, days or weeks at a time. I acknowledged that in my time away changes would take place. He would be a little browner, a little taller and a little closer to leaving me and becoming a man. I reminded him of the day he climbed on my lap and hugged me when he found me crying in front of the words I'd written on the computer screen.He'd said. "Read it to me Mommy". After I read the passage his reply was " That's you isn't it Mommy." Last night it occurred to me as I looked at my son ,now a tall handsome man that he still watches as I write the words , cry the tears and take those words out to the wider world. He knows his mother is a writer and he like his sister, his brothers and his father have been with me every step of the journey.That loving support ,deep breaths, a grateful heart, and rejuvenating days will keep this writer going.

The Calm Before the Chaos

Compared to the quiet, steady, predictable pace of my weeks this week will be controlled and welcome chaos. I will be able to begin the days with my journal writing breakfast time but will need to quickly get myself in gear to rise to the expected tasks of each day. Those tasks are pleasant and welcome and planned . They have been on lists for months as I got myself prepared and did the preparations needed to bring them about. I booked the flight that will bring Meg home for her mother's eighth book launch.I bought a dress, ordered a cake ,we booked the Legion and did whatever else needed done. Meg made the comment the other night how launch day is all about me. She might be correct on that account but a part of me would rather retreat and stay home alone knitting dish cloths and choosing shows to watch on the PVR. But I write books. I sit for long, quiet hours crafting stories and then I send them to my publisher and then my editor and I work at perfecting them and then the process results in a book. I then have to launch or send that book out into the world.So I take the books to a local venue where I am supported by friends and family.I have many wonderful memories of my previous launch nights. Driving into the farmer's market parking lot and seeing the many cars already parked there. Former students milling about celebrating the work their teacher shared with them over the years. Friends and family members lovingly introducing me.Nervousness,laughter tears. Milk being left in the car defeating the purpose of all my careful planning. Glenda's gift of chocolate chip cookies. Hugs and tears. Emma and Lilah tending to the technical details of the musical interludes .Chunky babies and curly haired toddlers in their mother's arms. Getting to see Headliner for the first time when I entered the Legion already filling with people. Calvin and Robbie providing music and an atmosphere that was perfect. Butter tarts and cake, ice cream,sprinkles and toppings.Graduations, weddings, birthdays and anniversaries sharing the week with the book launch.Busy , hectic wonderful moments of exhaustion and second guessing.So today I will check my lists and make new ones. I will choose my outfit, I will clean and wash bedding. I will read aloud the selections I have chosen. I will write a bit enjoying the real reason I put myself through this. I will let this day unfold and get myself ready for the week ahead. This launch as some before will be followed by another writing event that will require me to step up and participate. In 2015 I left shortly after for the week long TD BOOK tour in Ontario. One year I went on a Hackmatack tour to Nova Scotia.Last year I traveled to Halifax to attend the Atlantic Book awards as The Memory Chair was shortlisted for the Ann Connor Brimer. WFNB's Word Spring event takes place around book launch time. This year WordSpring takes place the day after the launch , and on Saturday night I have the honor of attending the NB Book Awards Gala with Headliner shortlisted for the Mrs. Dunster Fiction prize. Controlled and welcome chaos forcing me to leave the quiet comfort of my home and my happy solitude.The moments that seem to be all about me are so far from being all about me. They are about the people I love and who love me, the friends who carry me, the support of my publisher and editor ,the healing gifts of my wood road and of the vast sky above me, the sleepy dogs sprawled out on my office floor whose gentle breathing reminds me to breath and treasure each day.

This is Our Daughter

My heart is bursting on this beautiful sunny Sunday/Mother's Day.My mind is full too and I will attempt to unload some of the heartfelt thoughts percolating in my brain. First thing I saw out the window this morning when I came downstairs to put the coffee on was one of our cows laboring to give birth in the pasture. She appeared to be flailing and struggling while the entire herd circled around her. The two young calves frolicked nearby sometimes getting too close and being 'spoken to' by one of the elders.It was a frightening, exciting scene.But it unfolded in a natural and beautiful manner. Mama got to her feet and with a final push the calf was delivered. The aunts and father continued to circle giving support.Mama licked baby calf and forced it to its wobbly feet. Now a few hours later the calf suckles and frolics near Mama's side. Every now and then the two big cousins get too rambunctious and too close for Mama's liking and she puts the run to them. Amazing and so like human motherhood and family.Burton and I just returned from the Legion where we had brunch with Chapin, Brianne and the kids. My heart rejoices in the miracle of that family. The 'cousin family' Paige named them last summer and the name stuck. The Young White's was how Chapin signed my Mother's Day card. Motherhood, family: the wonderful plan to nurture children. I had Dad to the cardiologist on Thursday and he introduced me to the doctor as 'Our daughter.' It warmed my heart . Even though one half of the our is now missing and I celebrate this first Mother's Day without my mother my Dad's words honor her part in who I am. My heart is full and I see this day as an opportunity to just allow the wonder of motherhood to surround me. I acknowledge the fact it is the twentieth year of missing my oldest son. I pray for the four mothers in Miramichi who are feeling that loss today on their first Mother's Day after their sons and daughter's deaths. I pray for motherless children, fathers who must carry on . I give thanks for the privilege I was given to mother four children ,and continue to hold my children in my heart , to be grandmother to five children and Nanny Sue to four others,to be like a loving mother in my classroom for 29 years and to now write books with stories of mothers, of families, of imperfection and of love.

The Rhythm of Our Days

Rhythm as a musical term refers to movement, repetition of a beat,a pattern produced by the combination of accent,metre and tempo. The rhythm of our lives, of our day to day , week to week and season to season often takes on a musical quality . Consider the variety of rhythms in the many types of music. The slow waltz, the disco beat, the frenzied staccato, a country ballad and on and on. I just returned from a nice slow and steady paced walk with my 89 year old Dad. We sat for awhile on a bench by our brook and talked some but also took in the sounds of the babbling brook and the rustling leaves. Two busy black dogs ran in and out of the water retrieving sticks. I have thought a lot lately about the stages of our lives. I clearly recall the busy life of a mother and full time teacher raising four children. Many days were like a whirlwind and one extra thing thrown in could topple the equilibrium. It often seemed that things came all at once. The more you were juggling the more got thrown your way. Some days the music seemed too loud, too crazy , too ear splitting and mind bending. It seemed if one more thing came at you the rhythm of your carefully orchestrated day would implode. I have fewer of those days at this stage of my life. Safe to say I seldom deviate from the well established predictable cadence of my days. I treasure this predictability and use days like this one to build up the strength needed for the more demanding days. I am watching my Dad who is unable to do many of the things that gave meaning to his days and feel his sorrow and frustration. I watch my children caught up in those frenzied days of working and raising kids and facing life's challenges. I sometimes want things to slow down for them , the music to get calmer. I want to give support , offer wisdom and solutions to those younger and those older. I do know stuff and have some experience and lessons to share. I have compassion and understanding and I will continue to give what I can . The truth of it is though that each must find their own way to adapt to their current situation.The tools that will empower them come from within and from embracing the rhythm of the days they find themselves living. That's all I've got today and I have to get supper on the table for my father who likes the steady rhythm of predictable mealtimes.